Silent Moments Consumed By Drums
by foREVerAvengedSevenfold
Summary: The Masters thoughts as he lay dying in the burning fields of Gallifrey. 'I had always hated The Doctor for destroying our home planet—could never understand why he did it—but now, seeing this scene, I finally understand.' Please read and review!


**A/N just a short oneshot of The Masters thoughts at the end of his life, taking place after the end of time. Will remain a oneshot unless i get a really good idea/suggestion on how to carry it on. Please review! Good or bad, I want your opinion!**

**Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, otherwise the Master would not have gone, and the doctor would still be David Tennant :) **

In the end it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. I was trapped in the time lock once again. There was no escape. Not for anyone, the time lock could not be broken once again, we were banished to this world forever. The Doctor was gone, he wouldn't come and find me, why would he? After all the times I've hurt, imprisoned, and tried to kill him, what should it matter to him whether I live or die? He wouldn't be able to save me even if he wanted too. Nothing could get into a time lock. My life was doomed. Cursed from the start by the drums, my life was never intended to last any longer than this. I was just a tool for the Timelord's, I was no longer a use to them.

I could hear cries and screams in the distance, but they was quiet in comparison to the drums. The never ending drumbeat. Getting louder by the minute, they were torture. They were even worse to bear once I found out my own people put them in my head. How could they! Because of them my life has been a constant madness! The Doctor was the only person who understood me, even after all the times I had hurt him, or tried to kill him, he always forgave me. He is one only person in this universe that cared about me. And I didn't give a second thought about giving the order for him to be killed, I was quietly thankful when I found out that the missiles hadn't killed him. I pretended to hate him. I should have gone with him after the year that never was. Then I wouldn't be here now, laying in one of the many burning fields of Gallifrey. I would be alive, with hundreds of more years of life ahead of me, now my life is draining away, only a couple of minutes left by my guess. I wish that I could return to the past, just be Theta and Koschei, we was so carefree, we would play in my fathers field all day, we hadn't a worry in the world. When did that all change? I can't remember now. We used to be so close, we were like brothers to each other, when did we become enemies? It was probably the drums, the drums tore me apart from every one…

There were clouds of deep grey smoke burning in the orange skies. The once beautiful kingdom was ruined, destroyed, and burning. I had always hated The Doctor for destroying our home planet—could never understand _why_ he did it—but now, seeing this scene, I finally understand. Home _wasn't_ home anymore. It was a battlefield, with most of the occupant's dead already. The doctor destroyed our planet, to save the universe. No one ever thought to thank him, not any of the people that he has saved over the years. No one on earth know who he is, so why does he bother? What does he achieve by saving those useless humans? He loves the human race so much, I can't see why, when they seem to hate him so much. That human girl—Rose—broke his heart, Donna doesn't have a clue of who he is, Martha has moved into Unit, completely moved on. But still the doctor loves them so, why?

The drums are getting even louder now, if that is even possible, I bring my knees up to my chest, and push my hands again my ears trying to block out the sound. I don't know why I bothered, nothing can block them out now. They are getting stronger, consuming my body. I can feel my body getting weaker by the second…my body was dying, it was born out of death, and now it was dying once again, too weak to regenerate.

I took one last look at our dying world, and wondered what would happen to it. Would the war ever end? The drums were calling me to the war, wanting to fight, to kill. But my body had given up, to weak to carry on for any longer. In the end it doesn't matter, everything dies in the end. Why prolong the inevitable?


End file.
